The Confession in the Kitchen
by awilystar
Summary: "For two weeks, I had to live with that. You died, Booth."  Booth/Brennan, post Wannabe in the Weeds.
1. Chapter 1

**The Confession in the Kitchen**

**A/N: **Another oldie I uncovered for your reading pleasure. This will be at least two parts, maybe more. Set post The Wannabe in the Weeds, eventually earning the M rating. Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy this one, I remember having fun writing it years go.

* * *

She was absolutely livid.

Booth had insisted on taking her home, and she, feeling slightly guilty after socking him in the eye, had reluctantly agreed. But now, standing in her kitchen, watching him across from her as he stood with crossed arms, the navy fabric of his dress uniform stretched tightly over his shoulders, her anger had renewed. It was completely irrational, to be so upset, but for once in her life, she didn't care. Here he was, in the flesh, completely whole, when just mere minutes ago, she had believed him to be dead. Dead, because of her, _for _her. She'd been standing over his _grave,_ for god's sake, _and_ he hadn't had the balls to break protocol and tell her himself that it'd all been a lie.

Looking at him, it was completely obvious that he had no idea how angry she was at him. Oh, he was about to learn. She shifted, her heels clicking lightly on the tile floor, and took a deep breath in preparation. But before she could even say a word, he jumped in with, "I gotta say, Bones. You have a vicious right hook," and that was it.

She spun violently, her blood boiling, and yanked open the freezer half of the refrigerator door. She didn't know what she was looking for until she found it. Jerking the bag of frozen vegetables from the bottom shelf, she slammed the door shut, rattling the entire freezer, and whirled to face him once again. The look of surprise on his face didn't go unnoticed, and as the bag of vegetables hit him square in the chest, he winced and took a step back. "Jesus, what the hell was that for?" he yelped, kicking the vegetables to the side from where they'd landed at his feet.

She hadn't stopped to think about his wound before she'd lashed out, but this time, there was no guilt.

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't dead?" Her voice rose steadily and her hands folded into fists at her sides as she yelled.

He looked almost taken aback by her fury, and he fumbled for an answer. "You were supposed to know," he replied, as if that would be enough to pacify her.

"I don't _care_ if I was _supposed _to know. _I didn't know_." She broke off, eyes shining. "For two weeks, I had to live with that. You _died_, Booth."

Uncrossing his arms, he took a menacing step closer to her. "What did you want me to do? It's not my fault –"

"It doesn't matter _whose_ fault it was! I should have known. _You_ should have told me."

She raised her hands, giving him a forceful push backward. He stumbled, his back hitting the wall behind him. "Bones, I –"

"Don't you care about me?" she asked, hating that he'd given her a reason to doubt him.

Her questioned seemed to stun him, and he didn't say anything. This pause infuriated her – all this time, she'd been so sure there'd been something between them. Enraged she moved to stomp around him, unable to even be in his presence any longer, but he snagged her wrist as she slipped by. His fingers were like fire on her skin, and she sucked in her breath, stiffening. He hovered behind her, huge and warm and _alive_, and she feebly attempted to tug her arm away, but he tightened his hold until her back was flush to his chest.

"I took a goddamn _bullet_ for you, Temperance. How can you say that?" The uncharacteristic profanity stirred something within her, but anger and disappointment laced his passionate words.

"Let go," she commanded, unnerved.

"No, _you_ let go." He slid his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "_Let it go_."

"I can't!" Desperate, she struggled against him, her entire body tensing. Instead of relinquishing his hold, as the Booth she thought she knew would have, he urged her forward, trapping her between his body and the fridge. The stainless steel was cold, but it did nothing for the inferno that he'd ignited inside of her with his unwillingness to back down.

"Why not?" He released her wrist then, and both of his hands came to rest on her shoulders. He squeezed them forcefully, almost painfully, and his lips tickled her neck when he said, "Tell me, Bones, 'cause I'd really like to know why you're so pissed off."

She turned her head, pressing her heated cheek into the cool metal. He wanted to know? Okay then, she'd let him know. "_Because_, Booth! Because I had the nerve to fall so far in love with you that it felt like I couldn't _breathe_ without you here! That's why I can't _let it go_!"

The silence that settled over the kitchen was sudden and absolute.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Confession in the Kitchen**

**A/N: **Part two! Not M yet, but perhaps the next chapter. Thank you for the feedback, I love you all! Updates may be slow, as it's not my priority, but I'm enjoying this quite a lot. Keep in my that I'm simply writing when I feel like it, and there's no particular story line where I'm taking this. Leave a review, let me know if you have any ideas!

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_Previously: _

_"_Because_, Booth! Because I had the nerve to fall so far in love with you that it felt like I couldn't _breathe_ without you here! That's why I can't _let it go_!"_

_The silence that settled over the kitchen was sudden and absolute._

* * *

He froze, every muscle in his body rigid. "What? Bones…" he stuttered, searching for words.

"_Don't_, Booth. Just don't," she said, turning to face him. "Please." He wasn't touching her anymore, but his hands hovered over her uncertainly, and she could see disbelief, coupled with arousal, on his face. The grief and exhaustion of the past two weeks were finally catching up with her, and she breathed a sigh, too weary to fight it, to fight _him_, anymore. Ducking down, she retrieved the bag of vegetables, now slightly less frozen. "I'm sorry about your eye," she murmured, delicately resting the bag over the bruise that had begun to form.

"It's okay." She figured that was all the acceptance she was going to get. His hand came up, her own trapped beneath it, to hold the makeshift icepack on his eye. She could just make out the beginning of a smile on his face. "So you love me, huh?" he goaded, his other hand tapping her gently on the chin as it had that day outside the diner when she'd realized that _he_ was quickly becoming her family.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, failing to hide the answering smile on her own face. "I guess you could say that," she said simply.

"But I thought you didn't believe in love." His gaze was warm, and she melted into him.

"I've evolved," was her answer, and the bag of vegetables dropped to the floor as he slid both arms around her and pulled her to him.

They'd kissed before, but nothing could have prepared her for _this_. His lips were slightly chapped but balmy, and her mouth opened under them. Her head was spinning, and in a frantic attempt to ground herself, she curled her fingers into the muscles of his neck and pressed her breasts into his chest, rising on her toes until their pelvises were aligned.

He hissed out her name, "Temperance," and she halted her desperate movements to pull back and look at him. He was breathing hard, his hands clenching and unclenching the fabric of her shirt over the small of her back. "Evolution takes thousands of years," he murmured.

"Yes, that's true," she agreed. "But I have a deceivingly steep learning curve."

Her intent was to be playful, and his deep, belly-shaking laugh as he rested his forehead against hers told her that she had, for once, succeeded. He laughed until there were tears rolling down his face, and rather than laugh will him, she simply stared, wide-eyed, concerned for his mental well-being as he continued to wheeze. She thought she'd been amusing, yes, but not hysterically so. Booth still held her, hands pressed to her lower spine, and, at last, he finally stopped hooting long enough to draw a breath.

"This is so fucked up!" he blurted, letting her go to lean against the fridge.

"I'm afraid I don't know what that means."

He missed the flicker of hurt that flashed over her face, but not the way she folded her arms defensively over her chest.

"No, not this, not_ us_ –" he paused to gesture between their bodies – "just the situation."

She frowned, still confused, which prompted Booth's approach, all amusement gone from his eyes. When he reached her, he gently unfurled her arms and grasped her hands in his, and she was surprised to feel the slight shake in the usually so steady fingers. She sighed and returned his gentle squeeze, waiting for the explanation that she knew would be coming soon.

"It's not supposed to go like this. I'm supposed to know first, Bones. I'm supposed to be the one to ask you out, and you're supposed to say yes. I'll bring you flowers and you'll dress up in one of those dresses that looks modest from the front, until you turn around and I see the back and I'm like _wow_. I'll take you someplace new, not Wong Foo's, not the diner, and we'll order a bottle of wine and have the best chocolate cake in the world for dessert. Afterward, I'll take you home and walk you to your door, but I'll only kiss you on the cheek after debating the whole evening whether or not to kiss you at all and –"

Booth was rambling, and if he had been paying any attention to her, he would have been prepared for her lips to suddenly stop the nonsense spewing from his. She kept the contact light, almost chaste, just enough to remind him that she was there and to stop him from rambling the night away. When she pulled back, he looked somewhat embarrassed, his cheeks slightly flushed, and she extracted a hand from his and smoothed down the hair at his temple that her wandering fingers had mussed mere minutes ago.

"Ask me, please," she instructed quietly, grinning up at him.

"Bones, may I take you to dinner? Tomorrow night, say, around seven?"

"Yes, you may."


End file.
